


To Please The Dead

by DesertVixen



Category: Greek Tragedy
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Rituals, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Less death than canon, Major character death - Freeform, Public Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, greek tragedy - Freeform, not quite stocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: An AU treatment of Sophocles' Antigone.  Creon offers Antigone an exchange...





	To Please The Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radioqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/gifts).



Creon sat through her impassioned pleas for – mercy? Justice? Antigone wasn’t quite sure herself – with an impassive face. He could have been carved from stone, and she could not tell if her words were having any impact.

She could not – would not – leave her brother bereft of burial rites, denied that last dignity. Ismene had convinced her to at least try an appeal to their uncle before she did anything rash. Indeed, her sister knelt beside her, contributing her tears and pleas. Antigone could not cry herself – her eyes burned, but remained dry, as if her grief was walled up inside her. 

“The law is the law,” Creon said after a long silence. “My decree is my decree. Your brother Polyneices led a foreign army against the city that bore him. He must suffer the consequences of his decision.”

“Your decree is your decree,” Antigone argued as Ismene moaned softly. “But we are called to obey a higher law, the law of the gods. Surely Polyneices’ life is payment enough for his crimes.”

When there was no reply, Antigone lowered her eyes and stared at the floor. She should have known that there would be no help, no mercy, from this quarter. She would do what was needed, no matter the price. 

***

Waiting for darkness to fall seemed to take longer than any other day Antigone had lived through. All she could see in her mind’s eye was her brother Polyneices, his body exposed on the field, the circling crows ready to peck away at that beloved face.

Antigone had considered asking Haemon for help, but she could not see him defying his father, not for her brother’s sake. She had not lied to her uncle. Antigone was aware of the wrongness of her brother’s actions, knew that his actions had caused the death of both her brothers. They were a cursed family, stained with her parents’ unwitting sin, but they were all she had. 

She knew she could not hope to actually bury her beloved brother, but she could at least perform the rites that would grant him entrance to the underworld, to the possibility that they would one day be reunited.

Creon had made it known that the punishment for disobeying his edict was death by public stoning, but Antigone did not care. Perhaps the world would be a better place if all of Oedipus’ children were removed from Thebes, from the world of the living. When she went to stand before the tribunal of the gods, she would have to answer for her actions, and Antigone felt that it was far better to obey the gods and suffer punishment from a man, rather than shirking her duty from fear of that man. 

If she died, she would rest beside her brother. She would be worthy of her family, even if it meant her death.

Antigone went and kissed her sister, in case she never had the chance to lay eyes on her again. Ismene made noises about coming with her, but Antigone had no time for change now. Instead, she convinced Ismene to cover for her absence in case someone came to fetch her. 

Antigone prepared to sneak away, the wineskin for the libations concealed under her oldest dark cloak. There was no turning back now.

*** 

She never made it out of the palace. Her surprised scream when someone grabbed her was quickly muffled by the rough hand that covered her mouth. Her struggles were no match for the strength of the hands that held her. Antigone was somehow not surprised when she was unceremoniously dropped in a heap on the floor of Creon’s audience chamber.

“You knew that burying Polyneices was forbidden,” Creon thundered. 

“Of course I knew. There was a proclamation.” Antigone met his eyes without flinching. She would not tremble before this man.

“Yet you would defy me, would bring more shame to your family by forcing me to take action.”

“To reverence a brother is no shame,” Antigone shot back. 

“And just how far would you go to reverence your brother, Antigone?” His voice was softer now, yet somehow dangerous. 

“I would do anything,” she said simply.

“Then I will offer you an exchange. I will permit you to perform the burial rites for your brother, if you will surrender your maidenhead to me.”

She stared for a moment, not quite sure she had heard him correctly. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I shall imprison you until Polyneices has rotted to bones where he lies.”

After a long moment, she nodded. “I will give you what you want.”

*** 

Antigone had expected to be taken to a bedchamber, but instead, Creon walked to a corner of the audience chamber, and bid the guards assist Antigone. He led her into another smaller room, this one stark and bare, except for the contraption in the middle of the room. It was a wooden stand with a bar across it. As the guards brought her closer, she saw that there were loops fixed to the crossbar and the bottom of the stand. Creon bid the guards tie her wrists in the loops, then fitted loops around her ankles himself. 

His touch made her shiver, especially as she realized that she could not move away. That, and the fact that her uncle had not sent the guards away. Antigone could feel their eyes on her as Creon produced a knife and cut her girdle, as he undid the fasteners on her chiton and left her standing naked and exposed. From behind her, Creon’s hands covered her breasts, roughly fondling her, then sliding lower. She could feel him pressing against her, his body hard against her buttocks. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear, “I will be the one who takes your maidenhead. My men prefer to watch.”

She whimpered as he slid his hand between her spread thighs, unable to protect herself or stop him, as his fingers invaded her body, stroking her as his other hand squeezed one of her breasts. She felt as if she was being betrayed by her own body as it adjusted to him, as she grew wet. Antigone was thankful that she could not see him or the guards as he placed the head of his manhood between her thighs and tore through her maidenhead, sheathing himself like a sword inside her. Antigone bit her lip, determined not to cry out in pain or pleasure, and listened to Creon’s hard breathing behind her as he thrust harder and faster, his hands gripping her hips as he climaxed.

Creon pulled away from her, and Antigone felt wetness on her thigh. She waited for him to release her, wanted only to clean herself, to be free to tend to Polyneices’ body, to get away from Creon.

Again, hands covered her breasts, but they were different somehow – younger, stronger. Antigone cried out in shock as she felt fingers sliding into her, felt another hard male body pressing against her buttocks, his free hand tracing the cleft between them and lower. 

Creon leaned close to her ear. “One of my men changed his mind when he saw your sweet body.”

She barely had time to brace herself before the guard thrust into her.

This time, Creon stood in front of her, watching the other man fuck her. She could see her maiden blood on Creon’s body, see him hardening and rising again.

She would do what was needed, no matter the price.

*** 

Finally, just before dawn, she was permitted to go to Polyneices’ body. The crows had been there already, and Antigone forced herself not to flinch as she looked on his face for the last time. Solemnly, she sprinkled the dust on his face and body, thankful that someone had at least closed his eyes after his death. The drying blood and fluid on her thighs was a mere annoyance, as was the ache between her thighs. She poured the libation, making the offering to the gods so that Polyneices would not wander the earth forever. 

All the while she tried not to think of what might happen when they returned to the palace. Surely now that he had taken her maidenhead, allowed his guards to violate her, Creon would not permit her to marry his son Haemon, as had been planned before her brothers fought each other. It was true that she was the product of a tainted marriage, but at least her parents had not known what they did until it was too late. Creon knew precisely what he had done, what he had forced Antigone to do.

It was when she set the wineskin down that she saw the dagger, fallen near her brother’s hand, that Antigone knew what she had to do.

She knelt, as if she were too weak to stand. Before the guards could come pull her to her feet, Antigone had the dagger in her hand. For a split second, she thought of trying to kill Creon, but she knew it would be useless. If she succeeded, the guards would kill her. If she failed, Creon would be within his rights to have her killed, or subject her to more of the treatment she had suffered this night.

There was only one thing to do. Deliberately, she looked at Creon, and then thrust the dagger into her own heart. Dimly, she heard Creon shout, but it was too late, as she fell next to her brother’s body.

She would dwell with him forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! I really enjoyed your prompts, and while I didn't quite go for stocks, I agree with you on the hotness factor. This isn't exactly one of the prompts, but I hope it works for you - sort of blending them a little. And some people actually survive this version! 
> 
> This is also my first time writing something that went this way, so I hope it worked out.


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